


Human Sexuality

by Riathel



Category: Doctor Who, Doctor Who & Related Fandoms
Genre: All Gallifreyans Depicted In These Works Are Of Legal Age, Asphyxiation, Based on a conversation with a few friends about if Time Lords even had genitalia, Choking, Gallifreyan Biology (Doctor Who), Gallifreyan biology is a weird and wonderful thing, I blame the Doctor Who EU in the 90's, M/M, Maybe they could fuck around with their genitals, Mindfuck, Non-Human Genitalia, Well technically it's non-humans giving themselves human genitalia to fuck around with but, Xenogenitalia, who knows - Freeform
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-10-22
Updated: 2019-10-22
Packaged: 2020-12-28 08:54:37
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 740
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21134036
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Riathel/pseuds/Riathel
Summary: Theta often convinces Koschei to experiment. The results are always surprising, but never usually this fun.





	Human Sexuality

Melding with Theta telepathically is a full-form feeling of pleasure, rippling through their every shared particle, diffuse and comforting. But this feeling, in his physical body, his outer shell, his replica human cock, is overwhelming. All the intensity focussed in one aspect. One part of him. His thrusts become sluggish, harder, as the feeling grips him, as Theta tightens around him, pleasurable in a way that aches, and suddenly he knows he needs to find some sort of release from it, otherwise it will sink into some deep part of him, choking, smothering.

“You,” his voice cracks around the word and that painful euphoria grips him, “you, you said they finish by — Theta, you idiot, shut up.” Theta's stupid moaning is almost louder than his voice. It pitches and falls, becoming a wail of sound each time he fucks into his friend. He feels incredible, warm and welcoming, the design of his human sex organs crafted with uncharacteristic attention to detail.

It occurs to Koschei that Theta has done this before. Many times. Probably — probably spread himself, prepared himself with that strange cream, tried to fuck whatever penis-like object he could find.

_ Or maybe, _ suggests a cold voice,  _ maybe he's done this with someone else. Gone down to Low Town and sold his services as a glorified cock sleeve. Look at him, gagging for this; you think he’s been patiently waiting for you? _

Theta makes an alarming noise, thin whimper and choked spittle, and Koschei realises calmly that he has two hands wrapped around Theta's throat. Worse, perhaps, is that voice goading him to dig in harder, to press against Theta's sensitive neck until his windpipe is crushed, so his backup respiratory system becomes useless, to watch him struggle for air, the last hour of his regeneration growing dizzier and dizzier, his skin fading into beautiful colours as he dies. Koschei has never wanted something so badly. His cock pulses, needy, craving, wanting that, and more, and more, to watch Theta's skin crackle with light as he regenerates, with Koschei still inside his writhing body, sliding even further beyond the physical, manipulating the new forms, changing each cell so that Theta is bent for his own need, his every whim—

Gasping, coughing, Theta blinks up at him with that trusting stare as his throat is released. “Tell me how they—” Feeling more than halfway insane, Koschei digs into his memory, “They come, yes?”

“Ye—yeah,” Theta stutters. Thin fingers run over his reddened throat. He licks his lips. “Semen from the… it's a bit crude...” The flare of shamed delight through their bond makes Koschei thrust in, jerkily, to reward him.

“Tell me,” he says, panting, “Tell me how to come in you.”

Theta is moaning and whimpering, his bright eyes unfocussed, but he manages to stammer out, “The — the semen comes from their testicles - ohh, gghh - just, imagine it travelling from there to, to your, ngh, your cock and then out of the — _oh!”_

Gratifying as it is for Theta to be left babbling with every thrust, it's even better when his friend's eyes roll into whites, his mouth slack, his psychic field an insensate whine of static, as Koschei rushes ahead of his explanation. He won't admit it, but he hadn't been totally sure how much he should be coming, so he keeps going until Theta's stomach begins to swell, and then a bit further still, enjoying the way he can reach down and feel the pulsing warmth fill Theta further and further.

After the initial burst, human orgasm is a bit more disappointing than he expected. He rests inside, unsure what to do with his softening genitals. It feels sticky. His semen is drying quickly, overly hot on his skin. None of this feels as good as the deep sense of security when their particles align — it’s all too rushed, awkward, inadequate. The cheap high of artificial chemicals leaves as soon as it peaks. Humans must be constantly fucking, to keep tapping into that feeling. The idea is revolting, in some senses — the thought of all those fluids splashing about everywhere. Disgusting. It fills him with an uneasy loathing, a tightness beneath his skin that refuses to be soothed.

But the blank expression on Theta's face, the way his face is splattered with his own drool, his eyes glazed, his tongue sliding down to run against his lower lip compulsively — that is a unique source of enjoyment.


End file.
